Pivot
by Firazh
Summary: A pivot, a hinge may seem the most insignificant of things. Often disregarded, doing its work unseen and hidden, it is nevertheless … pivotal. And when the pivot is a man, his decisions may change many things … for the better, or for the worse. AU: One-shot


Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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It was the hissing which woke him, sibilant sounds that wove a strangely seductive cadence. He blinked his eyes open, freezing in dismay at seeing the strange, dreamlike surroundings. Waking up had acquired a terrifying new meaning.

There were snakes everywhere, watching him intently, coiling around each other, the only sound the faint rasping of scale upon scale and the hissing of forked tongues. The room he found himself in was cavern-like, with the air of some ancient oriental temple. He saw walls of hewn sandstone, a floor of pale sand glistening oddly in the light from gilded filigree lamps suspended from an invisible ceiling, casting broken shadows. A faint breeze of warm air was flowing all around him, and the scent of lemon and sandalwood teased at his senses.

And sat in the midst of it all, was the incongruity of a bed from Hogwarts' hospital ward. In which lay the silent, unconscious form of one Harry James Potter, eternal thorn in the side of Severus Snape, who found himself sitting next to the bed. Potter's hands were wrapped in bandages from the damage he had sustained in his fight with Quirrell. Severus had earlier watched Poppy change them, applying new healing salve to the burns. Now serpents moved restlessly all over the bed-frame, gliding and slithering around the insensible boy.

And one large, majestic black king cobra coiled right on top of the blankets covering the boy.

It was staring directly at Severus, its gaze unblinking. Challenging.

He stared back, too frozen to move.

The cobra slowly moved its head closer to him, its tongue finally darting out to taste the skin of his check. Terror held Severus still, only his dark eyes following the snake's movements as it retreated as slowly as it had advanced. When it suddenly hissed, he nearly jumped out of his skin. The hissing sounded strangely like laughter.

"Sseveruss. Sseverus Ssnape."

He looked dumbfounded at the cobra, which had surely not just spoken his name … only it seemed that it had.

"Listen to me, Sseverus," it commanded, the hissing becoming clearer the more he heard it.

"What is this? Where am I?"

"Sshh. A Dream? A hallucination? A ssending? It doess not matter, Sseverus. You sshall listen, and listen well."

"If this is merely a dream ..." he began, and started to get up … or wake up. He had no interest in any dreams involving _Potter_. It was enough that he was plagued by the brat's presence in the waking reality. Fear was giving way to anger.

Only he could not move. And the dream refused to give way to wakefulness. As he struggled with himself, the snake hissed its quiet laughter at him again. Irritation swept through him.

"What do you want?"

"For you to listen, Sseverus."

"Why should I?"

"Are you truly sso arrogant that you think you know everything? That you will disregard advice just becausse it involves thiss boy?"

The cobra's blunt nose dipped to hover over the sleeping boy's head. The tongue flicked out again to gently touch the pale brow. It seemed like a benediction. Severus found himself torn between revulsion and fascination at watching the spectacle of a serpentine kiss. His eyes tracked the magnificent serpent as it resumed an upright position, its hood suddenly flaring out dangerously. It fixed an unwavering regard on him.

"You have reached a point in your life, Sseverus Ssnape, where your actionss could have great impact. For you are in a position to see … and to right an injusstice."

"Regarding the brat, I assume?" he asked, his voice automatically falling into disdain.

"The child, yess. But the consequences reach much further. Sso much further that they will come back to echo onto your own life. Your action … or inaction … will come to affect many. Sss. For want of a nail the kingdom was lost. And the ssenseless hate you bear the boy for the ssake of his father will be a nail in your own coffin. Sso stupid, humanss. Sso blind."

He felt insulted by the serpentine derision. Surely his dislike for the brat could not bring about his own downfall. And he knew enough. Saw what there was to see, much clearer than his colleagues, who were all exceptionally taken by the little pest.

"Sshh. Sso blinded by hatred you are, Sseverus. Unable to see reality. Unwilling to admit you may be wrong. Sso very petty."

The accusations stung unexpectedly. Stung because he had always prided himself on his perceptiveness, on his realism. Considered himself above pettiness. And yet … he found himself unable to refute the cobra's judgement. The words would not come. His tongue remained immobile. His throat refused to work.

"Sss. If you could but overcome your hate and your pettiness … the thingss you could achieve. The changess that would be wrought ..."

"Yes?" Severus asked, his voice sounding raspy and dull even to his own ears.

The cobra hissed. It sounded like a derisive sniff.

"But you cannot. Sso it will be all for naught."

His hands clenched into fists at hearing the very Slytherin challenge.

"What would it take?"

"Ssimplicity itself. Merely to see what is really there, and not what you expect to see."

"Surely that cannot make such a big difference?"

"Oh, but it could. When you see only the father, where you sshould seek to discover the mother. You dessire revenge, Sseverus Ssnape, when you sshould strive for redemption instead," the snake hissed.

"I have guarded his life ..."

"Oh, yess. But no-one has guarded his heart. His ssoul. His innocence."

Severus blinked in surprise and stared at the serpent coiling restlessly on top of the blankets. What did it mean to imply?

"Thiss child only knowss himsself a burden. He will come to think of himsself only as a weapon to be thrown at the enemy. Thrown away. He will struggle through, yess. Become great, nevertheless. But not _becausse_ of what anyone will do to and for him. _Desspite_. He could become sso much greater. And the cost of success would be sso much less ..."

"But I forget," the cobra hissed, and it sounded like derisive laughter again. "You cannot see past his exterior."

"Would it really change that much?" He knew he sounded pleading. Sullen.

"Certainly. Sssh. You may not think your role very important, but in truth you are the pivot on which a great many thingss hinge. Yourss is the power to make everything go ssmoothly … or not. To open doorss, or keep them closed."

Severus stared down at James Potter's spawn in dismay.

"Does it even matter anymore? Even if I do see … whatever you say I should see … the brat surely hates me too much by now?"

The snake hissed its laughter again, regally coiling and lifting its head to stare unblinkingly at him.

"Sshh. Oh, believe me, if you were to see, and act accordingly, his gratitude would have no end. The sservice you could do him would be immeasurable. He would forgive far more than what you have done to him sso far. Esspecially if you tell him why … and tell him of his mother."

"Yourss the decision, Sseverus Ssnape. Will you grow beyond yoursself, and help your friend'ss child, or will you mire yoursself in sspite and blind hatred for the sson of your tormentor?"

The cobra continued to stare at him, moving restlessly. Its tongue darted out to taste the air.

He stared back, torn by too many conflicting feelings and desires.

"Choosse. The road forkss at thiss point. It will reach the ssame end, ultimately, for the ending is for-ordained. But how much damage is wrought, who will fall by the waysside … or not, dependss on the road taken. Will the child be left to sstruggle on his own … or helped? And which do you think more likely to produce a favourable outcome?"

Put that way it seemed obvious. Especially if the end was the same in any case. He blinked. And found himself back in the hospital ward, still seated next to Potter's bed, staring down at the waif in front of him. Gone were the serpents, the scented breeze, the sandstone room.

Wait. _Waif_? Where had that thought come from?

But really, the boy was much too small for his age. Small and thin. With horrible cheap glasses that didn't quite seem to fit, as the boy was squinting all the time. Thin hands, with odd scars Severus had often noticed during potions. Scars like old burns.

And the boy was very adept at cleaning things the hard way. He never complained about that during detentions. Actually … when had he ever heard a complaint from or about the boy, unless it came from his own lips? Well, Potter himself protested how Severus' treated him. Sometimes. Often he seemed … resigned instead? Especially when they were alone. As if the boy was used to unfair behaviour directed at him.

And he remembered something else. How the boy _flinched_ whenever Severus came too close. As if he expected to be struck. And in truth, he could not remember one instance where Potter started a fight. Or pranked someone. Or hurt anyone in any form. Yet the boy was constantly in fights. And ended up hurt. The though gave him a sinking feeling in his guts.

Severus stared some more at the slight form lying unconscious before him.

See what is really there. Lily's son. Immeasurable service.

Where _had_ the boy grown up? He had never really considered it. Had not wanted to think about Potter's offspring. But … he did know that the boy was living with Muggle relatives. Lily's parents had been ever so kind. They would have made wonderful guardians for a young orphan. But they were dead, weren't they? Severus closed his eyes. Which left … Lily's sister. Petunia. Who had been a sour prune even as a child. Resentful. Spiteful. What had she grown into?

Would she really _spoil_ her sister's child? He envisioned small fingers with burn scars on them, cleaning diligently. And she had been afraid of magic. And jealous of it at the same time. His mind threw pictures of a young Petunia at him, thin-lipped with disapproval, when he had shown Lily some simple tricks. How accepting would Petunia have been of accidental magic? He remembered a slight figure in too large robes flinch when Severus passed too close.

And now that the floodgate had been opened, the memories turned into a torrent. The look of betrayal on the boy's face in their first potions class, when Severus had picked on him without reason. The look of defeat and resignation which followed. The way Potter had stared at the food at the first feast, as if he could not believe his eyes. And how hesitantly he had started in on it. 'Not good enough for spoiled Prince Potter' had been Severus' thought then. But now that he looked back at the memory of the child, he realised how abysmally thin Potter had been. How very fragile and waif-like.

And how scared. And painfully shy. Potter had opened up over time, especially around his friends. But recently … Severus had seen a pinched look return to the boy's face. And a wistful expression during meals, as if he was schooling himself for something. And Potter had not gone home during holidays. He never received any mail from home.

The boy was constant trouble. Or was it _in_ trouble? Did he really seek out adventure for adventure's sake? Was he really brash and attention-seeking … or did he simply not value his life at all? Because no-one had ever taught him to?

All those little snippets of observation were starting to add up. And the result they pointed to was … that Severus really _had_ _been_ _wrong_.

Fortunately, there was an easy way to discover the truth.

The boy was unconscious, and would not notice Severus' intrusion into his memories. It was child's play to gently pry Potter's eyelids open, and fall into Lily's eyes, unseeing as they were at the moment.

When he emerged again a while later, Severus felt shaken. The images still danced in front of his eyes. Being locked up in a cupboard. Getting shouted at. Dodging hands raised to clout and slap. Working endless chores. Cooking meals for others, and then being denied participation in those meals. Lying hungry and hurting in the dark. Running away from his cousin's gang of friends, intend on having their 'fun' with the small boy. Nothing but endless loneliness and neglect.

No, this was no spoiled, arrogant copy of James Potter. This was one lonely, neglected little boy. Lily's boy.

And the immeasurable service the serpent had spoken of was more than obvious. Don't let him go back to this hell.

There was no doubt the boy would be quite grateful to whomever rescued him from the loving care of his relatives. Hopefully grateful enough to overcome a year of verbal abuse. He sighed in chagrin. Apologies would have to be tendered. Explanations for Severus' previous behaviour given. That would not be easy for him to do. To apologise to Potter's face. But he owed it to Lily's eyes.

Maybe the first step to take was to get the boy proper glasses. Ones which did not hide his eyes so much. Yes, that would help.

But that had to wait for Potter … Harry to wake up. He really should not call the boy _Potter_ in his mind. Call him Harry. Harry was Lily's son. Harry was a poor, neglected waif badly in need of help, who just happened to look a bit like James Potter. There, much better. And what Harry needed most were some allies who would fight for him not to have to go back to Petunia. Minerva's face came to him at that thought. And a crafty smile took over his expression.

Of course. Perfect. The old Lioness would fight tooth and claw if she but knew what her student had to endure. She would also be happy enough that Severus had finally seen reason, that she would surely forgive him his past transgressions against the boy. And if the Lioness and the Snake together could not manage to get the boy away from his relatives, then there would be others to recruit to his cause. And that was if Albus put up a fight in the first place. Most likely the old fool was simply too blindly trusting in an aunt's love. But if the headmaster did know the truth of Harry's life …

Well, time enough to figure out how to cross that river later. If there was a river in the first place, and not just an old man's ignorance.

The greater challenge would probably be to overcome the boy's distrust and the harm Severus' own behaviour had caused. But if he could not manage that, he was not worthy of calling himself a cunning Slytherin. He could do this. He had watched over the boy's life all year long. He simply had to make sure Harry actually knew this. And change how he treated the boy in the future, of course. Not that he would stop being stern and demanding. But he did not have to be unfair.

He would make sure the boy … Harry … had a better life from now on. And in the long run Severus would teach him, mould him, train him, so that it was skill and knowledge that got Harry through whatever challenges awaited him, and not merely the blind luck that had admittedly served the boy until now.

Because relying on luck was even worse stupidity than clinging to blind hatred. Severus would not be so stupid anymore. And he would teach the boy not to be stupid, either.

For Lily's sake. And for his own redemption.

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AN: This is another one of these stories that I woke up with, and scrambled desperately to write down before it escaped. As for the hissing, I didn't want to overdo it, so I only added some extra 's' to give the cobra's speech a bit of a hissy touch. I avoided adding them when the result would have been a bad misspelling, a different word or simply looked odd to me. This is strictly a one-shot, and there will be no continuation.

But imagine the kind of story that could be spun with a Harry who didn't have to go back to his relatives, and got support and extra training from early on, and Snape as a mentor rather than an opponent. Plenty of stories have been written about that kind of scenario. The end should still be the same, but maybe fewer people need have suffered and died. Or maybe just different people. But it's undeniable that Snape's role in the whole book-series is quite pivotal, and that his choices and his behaviour potentially have great power to affect not only the final outcome, but also the quality of Harry's life.


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